On The Way Down
by Sullen Kitty
Summary: Oneshot. Jenny kept Jethro sane after Shannon died. He hasn’t seen her in ten years, and now she’s back… Jibbs. Based on “On The Way Down” by Ryan Cabrera.


**Title:** On The Way Down

**Summary:** Oneshot. Jenny kept Jethro sane after Shannon died. He hasn't seen her in ten years, and now she's back… Jibbs. Based on "On The Way Down" by Ryan Cabrera.

**Disclaimer:** Surprisingly, I still don't own NCIS. I _know_. It's terrible. Someone should remedy that problem.

**A/N:** "On The Way Down" is a beautiful song. Listen to it immediately.

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**I. A Long Time Ago…**

He couldn't stand the world. Couldn't take it anymore. All of the bureaucratic bullshit, in-house politics, ass-kissing, pandering to the uninformed masses – it disgusted him so entirely that at times he felt physically ill.

Ever since Shannon and Kelly had died – God, three years ago already, what kind of shit was that – he'd slowly felt his discontent with the world growing; his unease around everyone; his cold demeanor his only defense, because he couldn't shoot concerned civilians.

No one – _no one_ - knew about Shannon and Kelly. Not if he could help it, and he could. He moved to a new house that screamed "I live here alone!", began working on a second boat, and ate only Chinese takeout.

That is, until Jennifer Shepard came into the picture.

On-assignment in Europe. Why the hell would he be sent with a redhead to Paris? He was pretty good friends with the Director – a ploy to cheer him up, perhaps.

And it almost worked.

At first, it was only coldness. His personality was incredibly uninviting; even he didn't want to be around himself. But Jen was persistent – she saw right through him and wanted to get to know him better.

Her smooth skin, red hair, and gorgeous green eyes only made her that much more attractive to him – and that wasn't even mentioning her lithe form and penchant for drinking bourbon. But he didn't want to get involved with her. He _couldn't._

But he could, and he did. She was his anchor to the world for two whole years. She was just like him – uniform and clipped to the department, soft and happy at home. She kept him sane, crooning into his ear whenever he was depressed, instinctively knowing when he was unhappy and ordering what they thought the French imagined to be Chinese food and a movie. And when he was happy, she aimed to keep him that way – kissing him, making love to him (at all hours of the day), always smiling and laughing.

She knew he wasn't telling her something – that there was a part of his past he couldn't reveal to anyone. She accepted it.

And just like that – he was gone.

He couldn't become too attached to anyone. One morning, he'd woken up and realized that he was in love with this woman, this Jenny Shepard.

He couldn't have that. This would not do.

So he left her, without word or explanation, in Paris one night. He left the woman that had saved him from self-destruction, his buoy in the middle of a sea of chaos.

He never saw her again.

-

**II. Seeing Her Again**

"Jethro."

He looked up. "Jen. Nice job with that whole knocking thing."

She made a face. "I don't want to hear that from you. I came here to talk."

She'd found out about Shannon and Kelly months ago, but said nothing. It was time for her to break her silence. She watched him sand the boat for a few moments, then spoke. "Got anything to drink?"

He motioned for her to come down the basement steps and put down his sandpaper. After she'd hung her coat on the corner of the workbench, he offered her a mug. She raised her eyebrows. "Whiskey?"

"Bourbon doesn't fit the situation."

She nodded and took a small sip. "Jethro…"

"Jen."

She looked him squarely in the eye. "Why didn't you tell me about Shannon and Kelly?"

He knocked back a gulp. "Didn't matter."

"_Didn't matter? _They were – _are_ – your family."

He poured himself some more whiskey. "Thanks."

"For what?" By now, Jenny was thoroughly confused.

"For saying that they _are_ my family." He finished his second mugful. "Just because they're gone doesn't mean that they ceased to exist."

She pursed her lips and took the bottle away from him as he tried to pour himself some more. Ignoring his protesting glare, she spoke. "_I_ know that, Jethro. Most people don't. You know I know. Why would you think any different of me? Why would you lump me in with the rest of them?"

She stood up and walked around the boat, her hand latching on to each foundation as she passed them.

"I understand you better than most, Jethro. Hell, I probably know you better than I know myself. But for that one teeny, tiny little bit of information that you'd had a family, we were perfect." She glanced at him. "But you left.

"I know that you don't let yourself get too close to people because of Shannon. I know it _now_, anyway. Had you told me _before_, I could have understood why you kept trying to push me away. I would have loved you all the more for it." She finished her whiskey. "But you left anyway."

He studied her through the skeleton of the boat. Ten years later, and she was still one of the most beautiful creatures he'd ever seen. "I'm sorry."

She paused. "Isn't that against one of your rules?"

"It's not breaking the rule if it's said between friends."

She looked at him, her eyes large and dark. "Is that what we are, Jethro?" She said the word carefully. "Friends?"

He stood up. "Honestly, Jen? I don't know what we are."

He sat down next to the boat, his back against a foundation. She followed suit.

"Jen… you were the only person I trusted after Shannon died." He decided to come clean. "You were the one person who mattered to me _at all_. But I didn't tell you about Shannon and Kelly because… well, because they were private. They were _mine_. And I missed them so much I thought I would die."

She took his hand in hers and softly stroked it with her thumb. He continued, staring at their hands entwined.

"I didn't want to get close to someone and then have them get hurt because of me. I knew that if anyone could have taken Shannon's place, it was you. And I didn't want anyone to take her place." He looked at her, his eyes fiercely bright. "It was _her place_."

She nodded, understanding, and he kept going.

"I didn't know what to do. You were there, loving me, constantly reminding me that I had to live." He ignored her startled look and plowed on. "But there were Shannon and Kelly, lying in their graves, reminding me that I could join them any time I had the cowardice to."

Her grip on his hand tightened. "You… thought about suicide."

He nodded and mussed his hair. "Of course I did. What semi-sane person wouldn't, Jen? My wife and daughter were dead, and I was in love with another woman. But I figured," he said over her shrill protests, "I _figured_ that Shannon wouldn't want me dead. So I just left the source of my problems – you."

She bit her lip. "So I'm a problem." She choked back a hysterical laugh. "You certainly know how to make a woman feel wanted, Jethro." She stood up. "So should I just leave now, or –"

His hand gripped hers. "I'm not done, Jen."

"You damn well are, Jethro. I've heard you. If I'm a problem for you, I'll just leave." She glared at him through shiny eyes. "You have some experience in that area."

He pulled her down next to him. "Shut up and let me finish."

Her face was pale but for two twin spots of red in her cheeks. "What else is there to say?"

"I love you."

Silence.

Then, "_Excuse_ me?"

He sighed. "Listen, Jen, I've wanted to tell you that for years. I just couldn't figure out if the feeling was justified, or…"

"Justified?" She looked at him. "You thought I wouldn't love you back anymore?"

He nodded. "Well, yeah."

She head-slapped him. "You moron."

He blinked. "Did you just head-slap me?"

"Yes, Jethro, I did." She curled up next to him and rested her head on his shoulder. "You've given me a ten-year headache no Advil could ever cure. While you were busy contemplating suicide, I was busy thinking up new ways to make you happy. Even not knowing about Shannon and Kelly, I was content with _just you_. What the hell made you think that I wouldn't be?"

He shrugged. "Maybe you moved on."

She smiled slightly. Raising her head, she pointed to his shirt. "Do you really think, if I loved a man who stubbornly wears his NIS shirts as if that were still part of the alphabet soup, that I could move on?"

He paused. "You may have a point."

She kissed his cheek. "I love you, Jethro. And Shannon…"

"…would want me to be happy," he completed. "You kept me alive, Jen."

She smiled softly. "You kept me."

_On the way down_

_I saw you_

_And you saved me from myself_

_And I won't forget the way you loved me_

_On the way down_

_I almost fell right through_

_But I held on to you._

**-Fin-**

**A/N:** All together now! Awwwwwww! Lol. Love Jibbs. Probably a little cliché, but I thought it was cute anyways. Review away!


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